Angry Jeff

So I'm not too sure why, but as of late I have been listening to a lot of Blind Melon. Well, that's partly untrue, I do know why, because they are fucking amazing. However, in listening to them you can't help but be constantly reminded of the tragic history of Shannon Hoon at the same time. This brings me to the reason for my current thoughts...what is it about music/musicians that creates a bond strong enough, to a complete stranger, that you actually feel an intense sadness at times for the loss of them? I mean, maybe it's that they seem to be pouring their innermost thoughts out to you in song, but to play devils advocate to that, if a complete stranger on the street did the same, you would give them a hidden side glance and keep walking. Not to mention not even giving it a second thought if said stranger died.

Why is it that when I listen to them (Blind Melon) it actually makes me very sad at times when reminded of this stranger? In fact, in just hearing him sing it's like it instantly floods you with his whole story? Don't get me wrong, it's not during every minute of listening, but at times it creeps up and slaps you in the 'ol tear box (not actually tears, but figuratively speaking).

Music is a pretty amazing thing. Regardless of what type you listen to,(baring in mind Metal and related genres are MUCH better than any other and also illicit the type of reaction I'm thinking of) it seems to change peoples lives and almost support them in ways nothing else can at times.

I know many people who "just aren't into music that much" or merely listen for the sake of listening. I guess I should thank my Nan and Gramps, and then my Pa for making sure I grew up in a musical household and learned to appreciate REAL music. Not everyone gets that when they are growing up, and it may be the reason people like me end up feeling that certain emotion through music and certain artists.

There is something to be said for walking over, taking a CD off the shelf and going through the process to put it in the player, grab the remote and launch off into another world for 90 minutes, as opposed to going to your favourite torrent site and downloading bootlegged albums to simply play on your computer. Do yourself a favour, buy a cd of someone dead you used to listen to in highskule, curl into a ball in the corner, rock back and forth while you hold your legs and just enjoy the experience.

Thank you and goodnight.

Let me start by saying, that it goes without saying (or maybe it doesn't since I'm saying it) that Conan is possibly my absolute favourite movie franchise ever. Having said that, when the news that a remake arose, I was quite excited about it (think, preteen boy with first boner). Well, I'm here to tell you, that excitement was all for naught.

I would break it down for you piece by piece, but I seriously don't want to relive the agony. I will however, point out the parts that stood out as being "off" or how do you say, completely fucking stupid and pointless. From the jump off, it looked as though it had some potential. Morgan Freeman voice over, kind of like the old movies with the asian dude. Aaaaaand...that's where the positive ends. The village opener, like the original, looked okay, but then the Cimmerian barbarians break into conversations like they are living in England and took advanced speech class. This is Cimmeria people...grunts and two word sentences!! Next, fight scene with young Conan. This fucking kid tries WAY too hard, but the violence is good. But then again, we have more dialogue. EVERYONE talks...fuck. Conan's dad even tells him he loves him...WTF??

Skip 15 years, literally. A voice over tells us of all of Conan's exploits, but shows NONE of them and then we are presented with a dude is who maybe big enough to play Conan's little brother, if he had one. And apparently again, makes Conan into an english major who sounds like he is trying to dumb himself down at times.

You know what, fuck it, I hated this movie, you get the point. But I will say one last thing...NO RIDDLE OF STEEL!!!!

Fuck you new Conan. Fuck you.

Thank you, and good night.

Oh and, DO NOT GO SEE OR EVEN RENT THIS PIECE OF SHIT.

There are so many issues in this world we live in today. Starvation, unemployment, AIDS, hoarding, the disasters in Japan, and many others that are literally too many to list. I however, want to talk about possibly one of the biggest issues effecting mankind right now, as it is also one of the most over looked. That's right, I'm talking about large girls who have been cursed with small breasts.

You might be saying to yourself right now "Is he fucking serious?" Well, yes, I'm deathly fucking serious. Think about it, what's the one thing that most large women have to fall back on, large, bountiful bosoms. Literally 99% of the male population is willing to overlook the rest of the package, even on a morbidly obese woman (assuming of course that nobody knows) if they have ginormous breasts. However, that number falls to roughly .00037% when faced with the same woman, but replacing those massive mammaries with either beaver tails or something from the itty bitty titty committee. Leaving that woman to wonder to herself in quiet, and alone in the dark, why she was cursed with the frame of a hippo but the chest of a teet mouse. Whether you believe in evolution or in a higher being, either way, it's unfair and cruel.

Unfortunately, there is little that can be done about this sad issue. Breast augmentation? Why bother. Suck it up and roll her in flour anyway? Highly doubtful (unless large doses of alcohol are present, in which case the morning after regret is just not worth it). In the end, they are left to wander this world alone, sidekick to a skinny 5 who wants to make herself at least maybe a 6.3 next to her hulking, small chested friend.

So please, next time you are saying a prayer for the children of Africa or the radiated of Japan, maybe throw a little tiny chested prayer in for those who arrived just a little too late for the "Addition Elle shopper, but at least you got a set of whoppers" line.

Thank you, and goodnight.

I think the subject line says it all, no? I'm sitting here today, listening to the mighty Mastodon, lamenting on the tits and ass I must fix, and wondering if it truly is better to have loved and lost, than to never loved at all. Well, all except that last part, I'm definitely not doing that.

Let's see, where I'm at...Well, pretty much the same place as last time. The boy is good, much calmer and more controlled, the kid is growing fast, mostly out right now, but that's okay, babies (boys especially lol) can be fat, it helps them bounce and roll.

Guitar? guilting me with every passing second.

Mastodon? Still mighty.

Me? Right where I left myself.

Boom.

So yeah, i was sitting here this morning thinking to myself, self, you are bored, go write in your livejournal. So here I am. Clearly many things have occurred since my last post here, as time passing pretty much forces that, but have they been interesting? Partly.

The boy, over a year now and somewhat coming along nicely. He is in skule and learning to be a "good" dog. I know they can be trained to do as we wish and not act up, but I also feel that only goes so far as personality is going to win out in some situations. Unfortunately his personality is that of a dog who does what you want most of the time, but 90% of those times it's just an act to save himself the grief. Do I want to train the personality out of my boy? No. Do I want him to stop walking up to me while I'm sleeping on the couch and smashing me in the face with his paw or nose to wake me up? Uh...yes. In the end, things will be fine, and he will do what he is told, or what he wants, could go either way.

The other boy, Owen Andrew Small is awesome, 4 months now and having a nephew is a lot like having a sister with a kid. Facetime has helped a lot too. Oh, and he farts like a real dude, it's pretty sweet.

Guitar...going well, although this fucking goddamn gimp wrist brace I have to wear for work right now has impeded it slightly, but I shall be back on the horse soon.

The rest, not worth mentioning. Oh wait, parents house got broken into. Never wanted immigration reform more, ever.

Remind me to type more soon.

As for now, get the hell out of here quietly, the boy is asleep and if you wake him and he is all amped up, I'm gonna be super pissed.

Angry

I got nothing.

Love it.

No time for pleasantries and small talk bullshit. I have finally have some work and t's online to grab. Go...grab them, now! And tell all your friends! No...seriously...link it and tell your friends. I'll be your best friend.

http://www.mysoti.com/mysoti/designer/AngryJeff

Metal Up Your Ass.

(Insert sounds of practicing here...) WHHOOOAAAAA...Holy cheeeeerrist!!! Okay...first things first...when the amp is on...DO NOT sneak up on me. For fucks sake. Shit...my heart won't slow down, douche. (insert heavy breathing sounds and hand on chest.).

Okay, okay...I'm good now. Jesus, You just can't sneak up on me when I'm deep in the brutality of metal. It's okay though, I'm good. Sooooo...it's been a while now since you dropped by, I would say I missed you, but in all honesty, I didn't really. Is that wrong to say that? To be honest? Ah well...whateves yo.

So what has been going on? Let's see, been kinda lazy lately, which isn't good and I definitely have to get over it and get my ass in gear. I have been steeped in metal as always, considering it's my life, that is no surprise. What is a surprise would be getting a small birthday cake and having some kind of vicious animal hidden inside that jumps out at your throat when you cut it...that would be a surprise. So I'm also banging away on the 'ol strum boxes, that's always a good time and much more relaxing than I had originally thought, I love the shit.

Drawing? Ahh...yeah, well, done a little lately, but inspiration is hard to come by these days for some reason, although that's no excuse and I need to rectify this. Any ideas? Anything? Nadda eh? Yeah...thanks for the help. Speaking of drawing, FINALLY my left arm is completely done and thank god I ended up taking it right to the wrist and the other has been started. Looks pretty damn good so far.

Aside from that, everything is pretty good on all fronts lately...So you didn't really miss much. I guess that means you REALLY don't need to drop by as often. Well, actually, let me rephrase that. You can drop by as often as you like, maybe it's more that I don't need you to drop by as often. Such is life.

Okay...Please get up, you are sitting on my guitar cord. I gotta get back to this. Don't close the door on your way out, I want the whole neighborhood to hear the brutality.

R.I.P. Brother Dime

GETCHA PULL!!!

What to do. Do you celebrate today?...Do you mourn? What do you do? On one hand it's brutally sad to think of what might have been if Darrell Abbott hadn't of been murdered 5 years ago today. What might metal have been now?

On the other...with all we know about the life and times of Dimebag, he would probably be disappointed that ANYONE is sad today, as opposed to grabbing the 7 and DC and throwing back as many Black Tooth Grins as you can before you grab your axe (if you play) and banging out whatever the hell the 7 brings to your head!

It's an easy answer. Let's choose today to remember a man who alongside three others (including his partener in crime and big brother) helped metal survive some truly dark times, who kept the party going and always reminded us to...GETCHA PULL!!!

R.I.P. "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott

My top ten...ALL TIME??? Hmmm...that is a difficult list to make to be honest...there are WAY too many to name. And yes, there would definitely be an overlap...mainly Some Maiden, KISS, etc...

A New Found Direction...

Very few things in this life give me inspiration these days. Not to say that NOTHING does...but certainly very few. There are only a small handful of tried and true inspirational sources. Turn on the TV....garbage, save for Dexter and Metalocalypse.

So where do you turn when you are looking for that kick in the ass?

Direction 1: Metal
This goes without saying. No more explaination is necessary.

Direction 2: Friends and Family
Hard to not get moving with the words of those closest to you basically hammering that you are being lazy and get off your ass and get moving on things you should be doing.

Direction 3: Inward
If you can't motivate yourself to make changes and move forward towards goals you want to reach...then...holy fuck. The funniest thing is I'm also the biggest goddamn hipocrit with this statement. New Years resolutions are normally bullshit, but this year I am resolving to change this shit. Done.


Thank you and goodnight. Metal up your ass.

And oh yeah...GETCHA PULL!!!

It seems it has been a while since I have been in here. Oh well.

This is a question that has plagued me for years. Many a time have I sat and pondered my existance in a plastic world, surrounded by conveniences and constant shelter and...con..venienc...es. So the question of how long could I survive in the wild? Well, I suppose that depends on what you consider wild? Like...could I drive a smaller car? Or could I live in a smaller house? Honestly, I just don't know. Could I kill a baby for food? I mean, probably not, but if I was hungry and starving and had to, well, I guess I would have to.

I think what I'm saying is, the wild is subjective. Either that, or I'm COMPLETELY missing the point of this question.

I got it. It looks so pretty next to the Kelly.

WHOA...HOLY SHIT!!! You scared the crap outta me!! Sorry, the amp was too loud, didn't hear you come in...jeessussss. Okay, si'down, si'down, I don't have much time, it's shredding time right now.

So as much as I love Kelly, I just wanted to tell you about my soon to be new love...Her name is Dime-O-Flage. Many people are asking me why are you getting ANOTHER strum box when you haven't even mastered basic cords on your Jackson yet? Well, to those people I say bite me. Naw, just playin', to those people I say because it's Dimebag, that's why. Before I lose the chance to own a beautiful Dean ML with Dimebag's likeness on it and a beautiful camo pattern, I'm getting it. If nothing else to be a tribute piece to one of the greatest Axe handlers to have walked this earth.

See...A thing of beauty. Now, please, get the hell out, it's time to shred.


METAL UP YO...ah never mind, just go.

Either somebody has a severe case of the mondays...or this man needs a hug.

I don't get out much. Not because I'm a recluse or don't have anyone or anywhere to go, I just normally choose not to. However, sometimes this is out of my control. Take last night for example. I had intended on a few brewskis with the boys, a "girls night out" if you will, which started out like any other.

Beers, laughing, more beer, much more laughing, then Paul taking a picture of me and having Peanut Butter buy the happyjeff.com domain and creating an entirely new page to be the anti-page to angryjeff.com and then searching out cheesy Barney music to compliment the happiness. You know, same 'ol, same 'ol. Ah, good times....good times.

At this point, we need to eat. But, do we go to a normal restaurant? Of course we do. There just happens to be naked women wandering around, again, same 'ol.

Wings, beer, chicken fingers, rum and coke, Moulin Rouge. Wait...What the???? Moulin Rouge? Yes, you heard me correctly, Moulin-freakin-Rouge. I'm all for art, but please...where are the titties??...oh that's right, they were talking to Peanut Butter, my bad.

The night started to drag a little since you can only tell a peeler so many times who has taken your belt off and put it in her mouth that you don't want a dance right now...while Pauly was busy texting girls who WEREN'T there I might add...before you realize it's time to go home. BUT...not before checking out that tall blonde one that stole my heart, just one more time...of course no dance though. As my boy Flex always says...you can't make a ho a house wife.

Ta ta for now.

So my last post was weak. You would think that if I haven't been here in a while, instead of a little one sentence appeaser, I would actually write something to justify my absence. Apparently not. Well, unto now that is. So as I watch Amon Amarth here, wondering what poetic genius will spew out of my brain next, I come to the realization that it's time to be real. So, come on in, sit your shit down and lets go balls deep...er, balls out. (Shit, there is no way to make that phrase seem ungay.)

Okay, so many things have happened since the last time we spoke, 99% of which I have no intention of getting into, the 1% is what we will concentrate on. I have been neglecting my shredding duties and poor Kelly is crying from lack of use, not sure what she will do when the Dime-O-Flage enters the picture, guess we gotta cross that when it comes. I have been trying to draw a little more here and there, time to get this shirt shit off the ground too finally, so we shall see.

Onwards and upwards. Spermys place...yep, need to make more appearances there again, that was once one of my favourite places to retreat to, and still is, but been neglecting it. Time to shelve the neglect and get my ass back in there, if for no other reason than to increase my blood alcohol level.

Realistically, there isn't that much more, at least that I'm prepared to share, so if you don't mind Amon Amarth is calling, and it's metal's time now, you may leave.



And shut the door on your way out...I don't want the metal becoming watered down by going out the door.


METAL UP YOUR ASS!!!

I was contemplating a celebratory 6 pack, then chucking the plastic into the lake where some geese are swimming, then maybe going and getting some potatoe chips and throwing the bag on the ground in the park, then maybe throw some water bottles and pop cans in the garbage!

YAY EARTH DAY!!!

So apparently I have been neglecting my live journaly duties...Not good, not good at all.

Yeah, yeah, come in, come in...hurry up, I have little time today so I have to get right to it.

So things haven't been that great lately, well I should say they weren't great for a while...but things are slowly getting back on track. A situation that was severely clouding my mind has been taken care of and is getting better and some work issues are slowly clearing, so maybe I'm back on track. So in the name of getting back on track, I decided I wanted to learn something new and within that to find a new stress release. I think I found it. It actually makes sense when you think about it, I mean, the result of what I'm talking about is something that is very important in my life.

I decided it's time to become more well rounded and expand my knowledge base and abilities. Enter my brand spanking new Black Metal styled Jackson Kelly.




I was up til almost 2 am practicing yesterday. This...is gonna be fun.

Metal up your ass.

Now get out, I need to practice my shredding.

Gynocology for Dummies

A crippling addiction to porn.

For the most part, I'm never angry...usually I get called angry Jeff because people mistake my bluntness for anger. Either that, or it's because I choose not to smile non-stop for no reason.

Sometimes though, I am.

Sometimes I actually do feel the want to grab someone by the back of the head and smash their face through a window. Sometimes I actually start to feel my temperature rise just by the mere presence of people close to me or my personal space (usually only when I'm already in a shit mood). There are even times when I am in a great mood, and simply by someone saying I'm angry, I will actually get angry at the inference. But for the most part, I'm not really angry much.

Today...I am in the do NOT enter my personal space mood. The, for the love of god, don't try talking to him or approaching him or coming to him with your bullshit moods. These are the days I get quiet...might say 4 words all day if stupid fucknecks don't come and MAKE me say more. Please Satan, don't let the fucknecks come in here.

I don't know...maybe I'm just off today.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually prefer to NOT be angry. But sometimes...sometimes there is nothing I can do about it, and sometimes....maybe a little teeny bit of the time...I like it.

WHOA....jesus christ...You scared the crap outta me!!! Sorry, I was deep in concentration with my new toy here. Hurry up, come and sit down, I got a good one for you!

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so led into things, by my own brain mind you, and mostly in terms of buying shit. So three days ago, I head over to bestbuy to grab my copy of the HULK on blu-ray, but of course they don't have it until today (which reminds me, I have to head over on lunch to grab it). So I wander for a bit, eventually ending up in front of the ipod section, as always. The iPod Touch...oh how you taunt me. I peered through the glass, there it was and for a NEW LOW PRICE!!! (yeah, 409.99...so low). I stayed strong. I left.

Fast forward to wednesday night, I get to the studio, and what do I see, EVERYONE with new iPod shit...well, Lori and Pauly, but still. And what does Paul have, yep, you guessed it, iPod Touch (albeit 16 gb). Of course they do. I sensed my resolve weakening.

So enter thursday, I'm sitting at work, a general feeling of "Man...fuck this, I just feel off." I sit for a while longer, and realize, there is only one thing that is going to get my spirits back up. Yes, you know exactly what I'm talking about. So after I flushed the urinal, I headed back to the office, grabbed my keys and headed to the car. Blah blah, walked in, grabbed it, came back happy. Crisis overted.

But I can't help but wonder, if Paul hadn't of had his new one, would I have felt the need to go grab one? Would I have felt the need to keep up with the proverbial Jones'? Probably not...but the way I justify it is I don't drink (much), do drugs or spend money on tons of ridiculous shit anymore, so this is my outlet. Get it?

Thanks for listening, close the door on the way out and don't let it hit you on the ass. I have an iPod touch to play with.




And oh yeah, it's the 32 gb.

Favourite scary movie? Allow me to offer some insight into the mind of the man himself.

The Grudge.

Not an overly gory or horrific movie, more along the lines of thriller suspense shit that you KNOW is coming, but still freaks you out. The little dude squatting down and staring through the rungs of the railing. The noise he makes on the phone. The chick crawling up under the covers so when you lift them to look down there is a face on your chest. And the ONLY one time I have EVER screamed like a woman in a theatre or at a movie in general. The scene where the chick is climbing into the attic...nothing seems out of place but you KNOW something is coming. Like a fucking moron, she peeks her head in to the attic...looks one way, turn and looks the next, then the next...seemingly nothing, just black, dark attic. So she finally turns slowly to the last side, and you fucking KNOW something is coming, but when that black eyed face is staring at her about 5 inches from her own...let's just say, it got me anyway.

I still have not regained some of the manhood I lost that day.

I'm about to embark on a topic that pretty much everyone in the world, save those fucktards who don't have their license or kids under the age, know about all too well. The all soul consuming life draining joy of being stuck in morning traffic. Join me on a journey that will take us through the true dark side of life...and shut the damn door after yourself, it's getting cold out there.

So as I thought back about my many experiences of traffic woes, my first thought was traffic usually doesn't bother me that much. I zone out to the radio or whatever. Usually. So then I had to start trying to think of a situation that actually did bother me and low and behold, what an amazing coincidence that this morning of all mornings became the perfect example. Oh joy of joys.

I'm going to abbreviate this the best I can as you can only describe traffic to such an extent before it becomes a redundant description. So I'm flying along the highway at a good clip, making great time, because as we all know, making good time is the most important thing in the world. Suddenly, break lights, cars slowing, merging lanes as everyone tries to search out the quickest line like bachelors at the grocery store. Cop car, tow truck and some asshat in a ONE CAR accident. I just shook my head, what else can you do? Traffic was moving again, I was breathing a sigh of relief, jesus, that was a close one. Not two seconds before I could gather the rest of my thoughts while I listened to Artie Lange's angelic voice, did two Poleece ocifers fly past me on the shoulder.

Oh shit...this might be bad.

I inch forward a little more, gaining little or no ground in the struggle to get to work. Then I look up and notice an ambulance and two more cop cars flying down the shoulder of the on-ramp in front of me. Oh shit...this might be REALLY bad. I might be late for work. The only thought that crept into my mind was "Someone better be dead." Yeah, I know, I know, such a mean thought, what an asshole, blah blah blah. All I know is, after an hour in the car, I didn't care. So I finally get through the droves of cars, the lines of traffic and the city trucks blocking the highway...and what do I see? ANOTHER FUCKING ONE CAR ACCIDENT!!!






Sorry...had to take a breather there. Seriously, what in the name of Zeus' butt is wrong with these clowns??? It's not even snowing yet?

So yeah, traffic sucks ass. Now get out.

It was as good as I could have ever hoped for.

Whoa, I almost didn't even notice you come in, sit the fuck down, don't be so formal. If I don't consciously remember to come and check in, I can forget this place for months, or if Pauly Walnuts doesn't remind me to post some shit up. So here I am.

Onwards and upwards. I'm sitting here today...and between the editing and burning my eyes out from the white of the LCD screens blasting in my eyes like two faux suns, I'm watching Some Kind of Monster on the third screen. Ah, Metallica. Fan boy? Die hard fan? All of the above, I guess. Did I rush out and buy St. Anger the day it was released in the special edition? Yes. Did I get the Some Kind of Monster movie the day it was released? Special edition? Yes. Did I even go so far as to have a friend order Death Magnetic in the special edition coffin box set to their house in the states to bring to me when they come back in 2 weeks????

Of course I did.

Let me tell you a little story...

Years ago, many years ago, I, yes me, the ultimate "I don't give a fuck, die hard angry metal fan" was the most hardcore hip-hop head that a caucasian male could aspire to. I wasn't always that way. From the first day of being influenced by cousins, I was a metal fan. I listened even when others didn't. I kept the dream alive for as long as I could. Metal was a conduit that through which 100 emotions would flow and through that allowed me to create some of the greatest art of my life. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the metal faded. The people who listened with me, disappeared one by one...until my friend base was only those who listened to hip-hop, so without thinking twice, I blindly converted. I dove head first into my new obsession...selling everything, buying all new. If it wasn't hip-hop, GOOD, underground hip-hop, I didn't listen to it. Years passed. The art died down, the highskule angst was replaced with a "fuck a bitch" attitude. Life was pretty good, seemed hollow, but hip-hop was all about fun and shit, so it was easy to lose focus. I guess I was happy?

Fast forward a few years. I'm sitting at the movies with my brother from another mother watching Mission Impossible 2. Movie ends, credits role, and a familiar sound comes out of the speakers. I know these guitars, within the first second I knew them. Then the voice comes in...James. It was like 6 years of misguided life instantly disappeared and I was back in highskule listening to Master of Puppets for the first time. The biggest, genuine I might add, smile crossed my face, and when they were getting up to leave, I HAD to stay and listen to the end. I was instantly reborn. The true "Metal Up Your Ass" metal head was reborn.


Now I sit here watching this movie from the band that before today could do zero wrong in my eyes. Yes, you read that right, "before today". As I sit and watch James "scring" (scream and sing) into the mic...I start to realize that St. Anger REALLY sucks my ass. I tried for so long to say "Hey, it's a progression, everyone grows and changes..." but alas, no. It truly does suck dog ass.


So now we move to Death Magnetic. Good reviews. Bad reviews. There are conflicting reports. This is what I know for sure, Rick Rubin is behind it...that in itself gives it more credibility than the previous endeavor. So here I wait, Death Magnetic releasing in 24 hours, roughly, and wondering if my faith in a band that has been with me since the 80's, will be restored.

I remain wondering.

Thank you, and goodnight, and leave the door open on your way out, the breeze is kinda nice.